Shroud of Chaos
by Hawki
Summary: The forests of the Empire are dark, dangerous places, shunned by those who cling to civilization. As such, they are the perfect places for the servants of Chaos to entrench themselves. And at times, Chaos itself takes root, casting its shroud outwards.
1. Ambush

_A/N_

_This started out as a fic as part of the Black Library's writing competition, centered around the theme of "Death and Dishonor". Still, as it's pretty clear by now that it's been rejected, I decided to post it here instead, albeit as chapters. Not the greatest piece of writing in the world, but hopefully not the worst._

* * *

**Warhammer: Shroud of Chaos**

**Chapter 1: Ambush**

Captain Edwin von Klaus hated forests.

It was perhaps a surprising sentiment really, that a man of Talabecland would hate that which surrounded his province. But then again, he was a soldier, who knew of the dangers that forests presented. The Empire had not survived for more than two millennia by mishandling those who fought in its name, and it was thus a given that its soldiers were where they could best serve their emperor. And part of that duty involved patrolling forests-regions where at best brigands could be found and brought to justice. At worst, the servants of the Ruinous Powers of Chaos.

Considering that the servants of said powers were descending upon his detachment right now, von Klaus no longer hated forests. He _despised _them.

"To arms!" he shouted, turning his warhorse to the trees from which the beastmen were emerging. "In Heldenhammer's name you will not falter!"

It wasn't the most rousing speech in the history of the Old World, but it served its purpose. The soldiers had made themselves battle ready just before the horde of creatures crashed into their lines, only to be met by a combination of wood and metal. The beastmen were masters of the dark forests of the Empire, relying on an unholy combination of stealth and brute force to do battle against their enemy. With the inability to press their surprise to their advantage however, the foul creatures' advance had already stagnated.

A few had made it through the Empire's lines however, roaring for human blood to be spilt to make up for their foul brethren who had already fallen to the Empire's steel. One charged von Klaus himself, roaring something that sounded like a cross between a bleating goat and a dark prayer. It raised its axe, wanting to have the honor of being the one to strike down its foe's leader. With a snarl, von Klaus brought out his broadsword, blood gushing from the creature's neck within seconds. It fell onto the damp earth, ready to receive judgment from Rhya, Mother of the Earth.

_And it deserves it too, _von Klaus thought, unable to turn his gaze away from the creature. He knew of the stories of the origin of these creatures, how they were a mix of men and beasts molded into a single species by the coming of Chaos to the world, unable to return to what they once were. In a sense, one could almost pity them. Yet after millennia of war with the beasts, any sense of pity had evaporated, replaced only by fear and loathing. Death was the only answer to deal with these creatures, and turning back to face the battle line, von Klaus was intent on dealing it.

One problem though-the battle line was no longer there.

Well, that wasn't completely true. The soldiers were still fighting in a line akin to what they had been in a few minutes ago, but were far removed from the organized ranks that it had once featured. Both man and beast were engaged in a thick melee, where the beastmen could use their superior strength to their advantage without fear of being outmaneuvered. Slowly, but surely, they gained the upper hand.

The captain couldn't move. He tried to speak, but could not bring himself to do so. The sun was setting unusually quickly, the glowing eyes of Chaos' children providing what little illumination there was. Screams of the dead and dammed echoed throughout the night, the names of the gods on the men's lips. Sigmar, Taal, even Ulric…von Klaus could hear them all. Not as battle cries, but prayers. Prayers for deliverance from the darkness descending upon them, salvation from the terror that was reflected in their eyes.

Given how the beastmen tore into them, they may as well have prayed for nothing more than a swift death.

"F…fall back," stammered von Klaus, unable to do anything more. Terror was descending upon him, as if the beastmen had somehow brought more than steel to battle. His men were falling left, right and center. Spears were broken in two, swords lay scattered along the ground, the blades of halberds missing from their shafts. The blood of Sigmar's children fed the earth, yet would not go to Rhya. No, this blood was feeding something else. Something far darker. Something that weighed down on von Klaus and his men, while simultaneously amplifying the beastmen's natural bloodlust.

Another beastmen came his way, just as bloodthirsty as the last. Yet unlike last time, von Klaus could do nothing. He waited…waited for his terror to end, to be released from paralysis by the touch of death. As it was, the only reason that he was not released was that his horse, Valmir, snapped. The same terror that had affected his men had affected his mount as well, galloping out of the beastman's reach.

"Retreat!" von Klaus yelled, or rather screamed, considering the pitch of his voice. "We make for Talabheim!"

It was not really his decision to head to the city state located at the heart of the Great Forest, but rather that of Valmir, galloping northwest to where the city lay. The terror was beginning to suffocate him, clearing his mind of logic and reason. Feeling the air close in around him, von Klaus knew that anything that had made him a good officer had been swept aside as easily as his men had within minutes of the start of the abominations' ambush. He glanced backwards, hoping beyond hope that he was not alone in his flight.

He instantly returned to facing forward.

_Gods have mercy, _von Klaus murmured, closing his eyes as his breathing returned to normal. He didn't know what had happened, what had dishonored him and cost his men his lives. They were all in this together, him and those who followed him. They were dead now, hacked to pieces by unholy might and powers of darkness. As far as he could tell, he was the only one who had survived, saved by animal instinct that unlike his own, had been more resilient against the suffocation that came from the forest, a feeling that he could sense even now.

All things considered, he wasn't sure who had suffered more.


	2. A Matter of Faith

**Warhammer: Shroud of Chaos**

**Chapter 2: A Matter of Faith**

Talebheim…

It was strange really, how it was the "Eye of the Forest" that provided the most security for the Empire's citizens who travelled through the region. It was natural to assume that it was at the heart of anything that what personified (in the case of the Great Forest, dread) would be most intense. Yet it was here that Sigmar's children could find sanctuary, taking solace in the fact that Talebheim would never fall so long as those who defended it were as strong of heart as its walls were as strong of stone.

Von Klaus wished that he could feel this way…

"Are you trying to make me laugh captain? It might have worked a few years ago, but things change…"

Von Klaus would have laughed if he were in a different situation. He doubted that anything had changed for General Olaf over the last few years. He fought battles, he led men into them and did little else besides. However, considering that what he had done a few hours ago didn't coincide with the general's views on the nature of the battlefield, he decided to err towards diplomacy.

"I wasn't aware that barely escaping with my life was humorous," von Klaus murmured, leaning back in his seat and trying to convey a sense of ease. General Olaf may have been in charge, but that didn't mean he was incapable of recognizing fortitude.

"True, you did manage to escape with your life," the general murmured, going over a parchment on his desk. "I wish I could say the same for your men."

The captain suspected that Olaf was being truthful, but only in a utilitarian sense rather than due to any sympathy to those who'd lost their lives to those abominations. With white hair, a face bearing more scarred skin than unblemished pigment and steel gray eyes, Olaf was as hard as the stone that surrounded him, his office located in the city's keep.

_He was probably a dwarf in a previous life, _von Klaus thought to himself. _Humorless, surrounds himself with stone…Hell, he's probably got a secret stash of gold somewhere._

"And what about you Edwin?" asked Olaf, snapping the captain out of his thoughts. "What can you say of your men?"

Von Klaus sighed. Eulogies had never been his strong point and if his superior hadn't addressed him by his forename, he probably would have tried to skirt the issue. However, he hadn't risen to his position through lack of tact and saw no reason to break that trend.

"All I can say is that their deaths were not of their own doing," said von Klaus slowly. "They fought well, but…"

"But…what?" asked Olaf.

The captain sighed. "Something happened. Something came over us, sapping our spirit and giving greater drive to the beastmen. Some kind of…force."

Olaf put a hand to his chin, leaning back in his chair. Von Klaus leant back as well, but from relief rather than as part of an effort to comprehend information. His situation wasn't favorable and he knew it-his entire force wiped out, his flight to Talebheim in what could be described as abandonment of his post. But the general was a reasonable man, despite the amount of evidence to the contrary. He would see that events had been out of his subordinate's control, that if he had stayed to fight, he'd be a corpse by now.

"A force came over your men…" said Olaf eventually.

"Yes, that's right."

"I wasn't asking for affirmation, captain!" snarled Olaf, thumping his palms on the desk as he leant forward. "I was simply comprehending how poor an excuse that is for cowardice!"

"Cowardice!?" exclaimed von Klaus. "How am I at fault here!? I-…"

"Abandoned your men and fled to the most secure settlement in the region," said Olaf, completing the captain's sentence for him. "You saved your own hide while leaving your men to die for you and made up a story about pervasive forces to cover your lack of moral fiber."

Von Klaus opened his mouth to protest but Olaf raised his hand to silence him. In retrospect, it was probably a wasted effort on the general's part, the captain being too shocked to summon a counterargument. Surely he'd done the right thing, escaping from a hopeless situation to report to his superiors? Not the most valorous course of action, but after all, there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity.

Having signed a piece of parchment that stripped von Klaus of his commission, Olaf clearly didn't think so.

* * *

"You don't believe him do you?"

Upon the uttering of these words, Olaf didn't know what irritated him more. That he'd been interrupted from dismounting his warhorse, that time was being wasted or that rumors of von Klaus' "resignation" had travelled far enough to reach the ears of Sigmar's disciples. Turing to face the warrior priest that had addressed him, Olaf decided that it was a combination.

"To whom do you refer to?" asked the general shrewdly.

"Captain Edwin von Klaus of course," answered the priest.

"And you know of this _how_, exactly?"

"The eyes and ears of Heldenhammer go far. Even further when his disciples are concerned."

Olaf sighed, returning to his warhorse. He wasn't used to such behavior from priests. True, the nature of a religious man tended to be influenced by the deity that he primarily gave homage to, but there were certain givens that one could expect. Devoutness to their cause, projecting their faith onto others…And whenever their deity was involved in conflict, a certain directness could be expected as well. Having become the first emperor by spilling the blood of his enemies, Sigmar was no exception.

Nor were those who followed him for that matter.

"Von Klaus was a coward who abandoned his men and turned his back on duty," said the general simply, his back still turned to the priest. "I'm not inclined to give such people the time of day."

"But you're giving me such time, no?" asked the priest.

Olaf shrugged. "As long as we're still in Talebheim at least. After that…" He trailed off. He'd chosen to be direct in the hopes that the priest would conform to stereotype and be direct in turn. Yet still the priest was being diplomatic, a tactic that the Church of Sigmar rarely had to conform to.

"What do you want?" asked Olaf simply. "Of what interest is von Klaus to you?"

The priest smiled. "Direct at last are you? I was wondering when that was going to happen."

"Answer the question."

"Very well." The man extended a hand. "Helghun Ludenhorff, Warrior Priest of Heldenhammer. And to answer your question, I'm not interested in von Klaus. Rather, I'm interested in his story."

Olaf toyed with asking the priest as to how he had access to von Klaus' report but decided against it. Religion could be a persuasive force, even for those who fought for the Empire's existence. And the order for the stripping of the captain's commission had come from him personally. The chain of command was long, and the priest could have inserted himself into it at any point.

"Surely the report has merit?" Ludenhorff asked. "That of a perversive force, the children of Chaos fighting with unnatural fury?"

"Even commanders are capable of letting their imagination get the better of them," said Olaf simply. "Along with their cowardice for that matter.

"Perhaps," admitted the priest, holding his hands up as if to apologize. "I do not question your judgment as to von Klaus' punishment. However, I am not inclined to question _his _judgment either." He lowered his hands, touching his prayer book with one of them, clenching his warhammer with the other. "Not when the servants of the Ruinous Powers are involved."

Olaf fought to keep himself from laughing. It was so typical. Religious men saw sin and corruption at every corner and saw it as their holy duty to root it out. Wizards were sinners, dissidents were heretics, those not devout were doomed to damnation lest they hear the voice of their god. Priests weren't as bad as the occasional crowd of insane madmen that wandered around, ranting on about the end of the world, but the gap was a narrow one.

_And now, thanks to von Klaus' cowardice, I have one of those men who thinks that the presence of beastmen guarantees an active relationship with Chaos, _thought the general. _Damn it captain, if I'd known this was going to happen, you'd be in the stocks by now!_

"I think you're jumping to conclusions," said Olaf simply, mounting his warhorse and making his way to the head of the company to lead his men into the great forest. "Monsters are in every corner of the Empire. That doesn't mean that the powers that be dwell among them."

"Perhaps," said Ludenhorff. "But considering the threat that the powers that be represent to the world, it is still best to remain vigilant. Such are the lessons passed down through the ages and I for one intend to do my duty."

Olaf sighed…again. He knew that he had nothing to lose by letting the priest come along. Forests were unsettling even without the threat of devil-spawn tearing you apart limb from limb. The presence of a holy man could be good for morale.

And he had to admit, Ludenhorff's warhammer wasn't without the signs of battle. The priest obviously knew how to swing it.

"Very well," said the general eventually. "Warrior Priest Helghun Ludenhorff, I welcome you to my company." He extended a hand down towards him. "Together let us smite the enemies of the Empire."

"Aye," said the priest, shaking it. "Death to our foes."

Olaf couldn't help but feel emboldened as he took the priest's hand, as if Sigmar's might was flowing through his disciple into him. He'd heard of warrior priests' abilities, how while not on par with the wizards of one of the Empire's eight colleges of magic, were mighty indeed, especially against the spawn of Chaos. And "perversive force" or not, the idea that he had been touched by the Empire's patron god sure beat thinking about the alternative…

…that the enemy was making similar declarations.

_A/N_

_Well, that chapter took longer than expected, especially since I'd written the story out beforehand._

_To cut a long story short, due to a design flaw, my hard drive gave up the ghost, causing me to lose every single piece of data that I had stored on it-including this story. Luckilly, I'd printed it out beforehand so while I have to write it again, it's simply a copying effort._

_So although I'll be telling this story to the end,chapters won'tbe as regular as I anticipated. Still, given the short length of the chapters, this may not be so much of an issue._


	3. Into the Darkness

**Warhammer: Shroud of Chaos**

**Chapter 3: Into the Darkness**

Helghan Ludendorff hated forests.

Alright, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. He had nothing against forests themselves, only what often dwelt within them. Savage monsters, heathens, the servants of the Ruinous Powers… It was almost symbolic really, how the Great Forest lay within the heart of the Empire, crawling with those that sought its destruction. Within the heart of every man lay a balance of light and dark and it was up to the individual to choose which path to take.

_Of course, other factors may also come into play_… the priest reminded himself, yet remaining alert as he and the soldiers made their way through the dark enclave.

Von Klaus' account of events hadn't been widely circulated amongst the Empire's officers stationed in Talebheim, but it had done so enough that it reached at least one person who recognized the significance of what the captain had reported. For Ludendorff himself, it mattered little. Wherever the servants of the Ruinous Powers existed, it was his sworn duty to root them out. For men less devout however, it could be a problem. Fighting the servants of Chaos was one thing. Fighting Chaos itself was another.

_And a much harder one too, _thought the priest. He knew that Chaos essentially represented temptation and as such, it was far easier to deny the opportunity to give into temptation rather than resist such an opportunity directly. Even those with the best of intentions could go down the dark road to damnation. And looking at those around him, the men's eyes narrowed, their voices silent, Ludendorff knew that they were walking down that road right now. The only difference was that battle waited for them at the end of it, rather than damnation.

_And that's fine with me_.

"You're awfully quiet."

Ludendorff turned to the source of the voice, seeing General Olaf riding alongside him.

"There is little reason to speak," said the priest simply. "Besides, why disturb the silence?"

"Because it's unsettling?"

Ludendorff raised an eyebrow. It was true that the forest was quiet. No wind rustled through the leaves, no birds of night cast their songs. But that was to be expected, all things considered. Chaos was anathema to life, and where one was found, the other was often not. What did the general expect?

"Besides," continued Olaf, "shouldn't you be giving blessings and the like? Keeping the men's courage up?"

Ludendorff turned his gaze away from the general, looking across the men that marched with him, all of them with one foot in their grave. And by night's end, the priest suspected that the phrase would take on literal meaning for many of them, the rest of their bodies included.

"I can only provide guidance," said Sigmar's disciple. "It is up to your men to choose what path they take, whether they face the darkness or bow down to it."

Olaf chuckled. "They don't have that much of a choice. I tell them to jump, they ask how high."

Ludendorff nodded. "Perhaps. But a choice will be presented to them regardless."

It could have been the priest's imagination, but Olaf looked even more uneasy upon hearing these words. All things considered, he couldn't blame him. For all the wonders of civilization, Men were essentially pack animals, looking to the strongest of their number to lead them. If Olaf faltered, his men would know it and would be even more tempted to seek other beings to lead them. Ludendorff could help guide them, but spirituality alone was not always enough.

"I hate forests," said Olaf suddenly.

Ludendorff couldn't help but smile. "Really? That makes two of us."

The general nodded. "Aye. On plains and moors, one can fight the enemy properly. But here…" He waved a gauntleted hand around "Well, look around you. One must see their enemy to fight him. And the forest is the worst place for that."

"Perhaps," said Ludendorff. "But it can't be forgotten what also dwells in forests, what hides from the sight of civilization."

The general turned to face the priest. "You believe von Klaus don't you?"

Ludendorff nodded. "Considering what lies ahead, yes."

Olaf stopped like Ludendorff and the rest of his men had. Stopped in a mixture of fear and awe. Stopped because his instincts demanded it, his gaze fixed on that which lay ahead. A clearing in the trees, Chaos' children located around a shrine to the Ruinous Powers. Chaos.

And as such, despite the fear that radiated through his very being, despite his every instinct telling him to return to civilization, Olaf gave his orders for it to be dealt with.

* * *

Beastmen. They were so…beastlike.

Olaf had never been one for stating the obvious, or even recognizing it. He was a general. It was his job to see what others did not, to see how the enemy moved and deal with the threat. Taking note of the obvious, of what immediately lay before him, was not a priority of his and such things simply washed over his mind.

At least that was the case when he was planning his course of action. Now however, there was no clear course. And as such, parrying a sweep from a crude axe wielded by one of Chaos' abominations, he saw the obvious and was aware of it. The beastmen were savage creatures, worthy of neither pity nor mercy. They were abominations, existing only to slaughter and be slaughtered in turn.

Throwing back the beastman's weapon with his sword and proceeding to impale it through the forehead, Olaf did just that.

_Sigmar's name…do they all smell like this? _Wondered Olaf, watching as the dying creature's blood poured out of the wound he'd made. He turned away, having better things to do than watch a creature that should have never come into existence die.

_Hope they all fall as quick…_the general thought, casting his gaze over the battle. The path of destruction he'd carved through the enemy had taken him to a secluded corner of the clearing, allowing him to observe with a significantly reduced threat of being on the receiving end of a weapon.

His men were not so fortunate however, engaged left, right and centre with the monsters. They'd generally kept to their detachments, fighting the beastmen with iron and discipline, but the benefits of such organization were somewhat redundant. The clearing was shaped like an arena, allowing great mobility. And like the beastmen, many of the Empire's soldiers sought to exploit it.

_Well…I can't argue with the results…_Olaf thought to himself, watching as one of the abominations succeeded in impaling itself on a spear wall. A break from the original formation, but one that still kept its spirit.

An exception as the case was…

Something was wrong with the battle and Olaf could see it. The Empire's soldiers overwhelmed the beastmen by a margin that while not overwhelming, still gave them a significant advantage that would counter the creatures' superior strength. Yet this strength was still being applied, the creatures surging forward, their bloodlust evident to all. Yet unlike the one who'd impaled itself on the spear wall, their tactics, or rather the lack of them, were paying off.

_But not through their own virtue…_the general thought, watching his men, seeing the fear in their eyes. It was as if they were afraid to fight, unwilling to press themselves against their enemies when the opportunity presented itself, flinching from their enemies' blows rather than making efforts to counter them and regain the advantage. Some even threw themselves down to the forest floor, begging for mercy despite the knowledge that none would be given.

And Olaf knew why. He'd known as soon as he'd entered the forest. Von Klaus hadn't lied. _Something _was smothering the humans' instincts, instilling fear within their hearts while driving their enemies forward. And just as it had been for von Klaus, his men were giving way.

_And I'm no different_, the general thought to himself bitterly. _I should be leading my men into battle, not standing around here as a passive observer_.

He shook his head. No more would he stand here, watching his men die. He would fight alongside them. Kill alongside them. And, if need be, die alongside them.

He might have actually got round to that were it not for the axe that came his way…


	4. Heart of Darkness

**Warhammer: Shroud of Chaos**

**Chapter 4: Heart of Darkness**

Helghan Ludendorff did not think of himself as a shallow man. He did his duty to the Empire, its people, and its warrior-god founder, all other considerations being secondary. Yet crushing a beastman's skull with his warhammer, listening to the creature scream out in pain, watching it go down in a pool of blood seeping out of its nose and ears…It was so…satisfying.

What would have been even more satisfying would have been seeing his example mirrored by those who fought beside him. Yet the Empire's soldiers were being pushed back, the beastman's those who fought beside him. Yet the Empire's soldiers were being pushed back, the beastman's aggression counteracting the advantage that the humans' numerical superiority provided. Ludendorff shook his head. _It isn't a superiority now, _he thought to himself. _I don't think it ever was…_

His satisfaction turning to resentment, the warrior priest barely managed to duck under the swing of a beastman's rusted sword, a condition brought about by over-exposure to blood rather than air or water. Its owner had never cleaned it and due to a warhammer finding its way to the creature's gut and then upwards to its jaw, it would never get the chance to.

The soldiers of the Empire would clean their swords however. If they survived that was. And uttering a prayer to Sigmar, Ludendorff was determined to ensure that they would get such a chance.

Making plans in the heat of battle is never an easy task for anyone. Snap second decisions may be made, but these are due to instinct more than anything else. Fortunately for Ludendorff, who'd paid more attention to von Klaus' account than anyone else, the obvious target was plain to see. The shrine in the center. The source of the shroud of Chaos…

Grasping his warhammer, Ludendorff proceeded to lift it.

* * *

It was often said that those without fear were fools. Staring death and danger in the face, only the truly arrogant would not feel such an emotion, would hold themselves in such high esteem that they believed that they were above fundamental instincts, that no harm would come to them whatsoever.

Olaf did not believe himself to be such a man. But right now, fighting against a creature that should have never come into existence, he wished he was. For while fear leant an individual towards caution, it could be crippling at times, reducing one to something less than what he was truly capable of.

_But what if he's a coward from the start? _The general wondered, parrying a blow from the creature's axe, only to be knocked back by a hairy knee to the gut. _What's below that?_

Olaf was afraid…more afraid than he would have thought possible in the circumstances. He'd dealt with monsters before and for all the creature's strength, it lacked any finesse or sense of fighting style. Brute force may have seen the abomination rise to the top of whatever hierarchy its 'people' possessed, but it would be a simple matter to outmaneuver it, provided that one had the nerve to go on the offensive.

Never however, was something that Olaf…no, not lacked. Just couldn't "access" right now. Whatever sense of courage and heroism he'd possessed a matter of hours ago was cut off from him and for all the general knew, gone completely.

And given how the beastman kept up his attack, how he forced Olaf further and further back, its axe biting deep into his right shoulder blade, left leg and stomach, his life looked set to follow suit.

* * *

The Eight Pointed Star…

Ludendorff knew what it represented, or at least what it supposedly represented. Interrogation of the followers of the Ruinous Powers was often left to the witch hunters, but that did not mean that the warrior priests of Heldenhammer were segregated from those who were their enemies. Far from it. Ludendorff had heard and read a great deal concerning the bane of the mortal world. More than he or any other sane man would have cared for.

There were many recurring trends in such information, often regulated to a particular aspect of Chaos. War, change, pestilence, pleasure…one aspect for each of the four dark gods. Yet there was another unifying factor, the trend that was present in those who followed Chaos in general, not just one of its lords. The unity that was represented in Chaos Undivided, a worship of all that was unnatural rather than a reflection of one of the world's degenerate aspects.

The Eight Pointed Star was the symbol of this blasphemous unity, styled in the shape of the compass. The deluded claimed that this was a representation of the true nature of netherworld, that if one offered himself, he (or she, in some cases) could choose one path of many from the outset, yet always have other options available. While those of the mortal world followed a single path, one encompassing the road that led from birth to death and subsequent rebirth in the afterlife, Chaos promised choice eternal.

_Fools_, thought Ludendorff bitterly, looking down at the symbol which was the bane of all that was good. _Choice isn't provided by Chaos. Why would the Ruinous Powers give us choice rather than exert their will over us?_

Ludendorff knew of no reason, Chaos' children backing up such an assessment. His presence at the altar had not gone unnoticed, a trail of bodies marking the bloody path that he had walked. Continuing the trend, another beastman came his way, brandishing an axe as it roared, spraying Ludendorff with spit. A parry with his warhammer and subsequent strike to the skull and he was sprayed with the creature's blood instead.

Yet another life taken on the road to Chaos' heart. Yet for Ludendorff, salvation, not damnation awaited him.

_Not to mention all the others with me, _the priest thought. He dared not glance back at the battle. Doing so would force him to lower his guard. Besides, the screams of individuals both human and inhuman told him enough. Instead, he focused his attention on the shrine. It was a simple enough set-up. An alter with four pillars, two chains linked to each one from each of the star's points. And at the center of it all was a dark orb. The source of the fear that permeated through the clearing. The fear that was holding Ludendorff back.

_Sigmar protect me_, thought the warrior priest, clenching his weapon tightly. _Grant me the strength to erase this slight from your domain._

Ludendorff could feel the power of his patron coursing through him, yet he still held back. This was not the first shrine to Chaos that he had encountered and provided that he survived this battle, he doubted that it would be the last either. Yet this one was different. It did not give out power of its own, it drew power into itself and re-cast it. It fed off existing fear and amplified it. It was not a shrine to Chaos/ strength. Rather, it was a shrine to mortals' weaknesses.

Ludendorff knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he _had _to do. The only question was which instinct to follow. Piety or instinct? Duty or survival? Courage or cowardice?

In the end, the priest made his decision. He grasped his warhammer tightly, turned and walked away.

He then turned back and brought his weapon downwards, uttering a single word. A word that all would hear. A word that would bring courage and honor to all who fought alongside him, and fear to all those who would stand against humanity…

_Unberogen_


	5. The Light in the Darkness

**Warhammer: Shroud of Chaos**

**Chapter 5: The Light in the Darkness**

Courage…it flowed through him.

Olaf didn't know what had happened, what had changed in such a way to make his attacker turn and sniff the air. However, given that it provided him the opportunity to regain his footing, he wasn't about to complain.

_But there's more to this…_the general thought to himself. Despite all that had occurred, what was _still _occurring, he could not help but question the turn of events. He could not help but wonder why his men were suddenly on the offensive, the beastmen's fighting spirit having been yanked from them in a second. He could not help but ask why Ludendorff was standing upon the shrine…

…with a shattered star around him.

_Von Klaus was right. There _is _something in this forest. _A smile formed on Olaf's lips. _Or rather, there _was.

His opponent seemed to realize this too, turning back to face him and letting out a roar, grasping its axe tightly. Yet Olaf was unfazed. This was not a cry of triumph. Rather, it was one of anger, hatred and as far as he could tell, desperation. Keeping that in mind, Olaf glanced around the clearing, seeing that he was no longer in control of his men, the Empire's soldiers pressing their attack like the tribes of old. Yet neither were the monsters' leader in command, bereft of the blanket its heathen gods had provided. In the end, all the pair could rely on were themselves.

_So be it, _Olaf thought. He raised his sword, thrusting forward with it a second later.

If not for the fact that the beastmen's leader had come to the same conclusion, the duel might have ended then and there. However, a parry with its axe and subsequent swing dispelled any notions Olaf may have had of an early victory. Equal footing may have been regained, but nothing more.

_Probably not even that, _thought the general to himself. He could feel his movements slowing, could sense his loss of blood sapping his energy. On the mental level, he may have had the advantage, but his physical shortcomings made such an advantage redundant.

And the abomination could sense it too. Its brethren were being slaughtered, but it didn't care. All that mattered was its personal victory over its enemy. It drew strength from its own twisted ego. That was how the beastmen worked-through the strength of the individual.

Yet there were other sources of strength in this world. Olaf knew what he fought for. He fought for the Empire and its people. Gods both benevolent and despotic cast their gaze over the world, but it was still the domain of mortals. And by the will of men, such a definition would not extend to their twisted counterparts.

_I fight for the Empire. I fight for its people. Not for myself._

Had he indeed fought for himself, Olaf would have given up then and there. But he didn't. He knew what he fought for, knew that to do his duty, he had to block what was intended to be the finishing blow, ignoring the pain coursing through him. He knew that he had to press his attack, ignoring the onset of darkness in his vision. He knew that he had to use his superior agility to his advantage, sidestepping a downward cleave and ramming his sword through the creature's gut. He knew that he could not leave the process unfinished, and so repeated it many times.

As the creature breathed its last, General Olaf of the Empire knew that he had done his duty.

With this knowledge, nothing else mattered.

* * *

"General? General, are you alright?"

It was a pointless question and Ludendorff knew it. He knew the power of faith, but also knew its limitations. And given Olaf's shallow breathing, the blood seeping from his wounds, leaning up against a tree, he knew that any divine intervention would be a wasted effort. Yet he had to get Olaf's attention somehow and, slowly opening his eyes, it appeared that the general's attention had been gained.

"Ludendorff…" he said slowly. "You're alive…"

The priest nodded solemnly. "As are many of your men," he said. "With the fall of their leader, the creatures fled into the darkness. Your efforts were the final blow."

"Don't…don't say that," Olaf coughed. "I know what you did, how you destroyed the shrine."

Ludendorff smiled faintly. "Like I said back in Talebheim, I have my duty."

"And fulfilled it."

"As you did yours."

"No…" rasped the general. "I didn't."

Ludendorff remained silent. He could not think of any area where Olaf had failed in his duty, but sought not to inquire. Men chose their last words carefully, and he would not choose Olaf's for him.

"I was afraid, Ludendorff," said Olaf slowly. "I was afraid and I let that fear get to me, leaving the path open for the creature's axe." He touched his wound in his stomach to demonstrate, despite the pain it must have brought him. "It was only after you destroyed the shrine that it came back to me." His head rolled to one side, partly out of faintness, partly out of shame. "I stared darkness in the face and faltered. I'm no different von Klaus."

"No," said Ludendorff firmly. "You are."

Olaf didn't react to the priest's words. It was just as well really. The man had precious little time left and Ludendorff did not want to see it wasted in an argument.

"Von Klaus told the truth about the shroud of Chaos," said the priest. "But both of you faced it differently. While von Klaus fled, you stood your ground. You have maintained your honor, while he will live and eventually die without his." He smiled faintly. "Not in the same manner as you of course, but in time he will."

"You sure?" Olaf whispered. "Would not trading honor for life offset this?"

"Everything dies in time Olaf, that is the pain of existence. What we make of our lives is the only variable in the road between this world and the next."

Olaf remained silent. Perhaps he had nothing more to say. Perhaps he didn't need to. Perhaps he didn't need to say anything to those around him, having focused his attention solely on the warrior priest. Perhaps all was indeed said and done, death being the last action to undertake.

Ludendorff believed this to be so, and thus gave his final blessing. He knelt down, giving his last words to his comrade. Not the words of a god, but those of a man…

"Die now Olaf. Depart with your honor."

**The End**


End file.
